


Scullery Maid

by xxSparksxx



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 01:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8081119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxSparksxx/pseuds/xxSparksxx
Summary: Demelza isn’t alone when she overhears Ross calling her a scullery maid, and Francis offers some small amount of comfort. 

  Spoilers for 2.03.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because Demelza didn’t deserve that. A ‘what if’ to accompany the ‘what ifs’ of Ross’s conversation with Elizabeth.

“…play the scullery maid…”

Demelza felt tears pricking at her eyes, hot and painful. To hear Ross saying that, to hear him call her that, when so often she had heard it as an insult. From George Warleggan, from Mrs Chynoweth this evening, from so many other gossips who would like nothing better than to see her cast down, back into the gutter as they thought she deserved.

To hear _Ross_ calling her a scullery maid, and Elizabeth a lady. It had been so long since he last called Demelza a lady, and she wondered now if he had ever truly thought it of her. If he had ever thought she could be what his wife should be.

She had always known she was to spend her married life compared to Elizabeth, and failing to meet the mark. She had never thought it would hurt this badly to hear him _say_ it. 

Ross didn’t want her anymore; that much was clear. Not merely physically – though she knew well enough that he had lost interest in her, for they had not lain together since returning from the trial – but emotionally as well. Their whole lives were becoming separate. He no longer talked about his daily work, no longer asked about her day. He was curt and abrupt and secretive, and she knew he had only told her about the debt because there had been no choice. Even now, even after losing Julia and coming through the trial…even now he did not trust her. Even after everything they had been through, she was still being punished for keeping that one secret from him, about Verity and Captain Blamey. But worse than the lack of trust was the lack of love. Demelza could not, in this moment, remember the last time that he had told her he loved her, or even kissed her. There had been so many kisses before, of greeting and of parting, of affection and desire. There was nothing now.

“Come away, Demelza.”

It was Francis; he touched her elbow and Demelza stared at him. His happiness from earlier was gone. Now he looked resigned and weary, and Demelza, taken by surprise by his expression and his sudden appearance in the hallway, let him draw her away. They kept their footsteps quiet, and Francis kept his hand on her elbow as they went to the staircase and began to ascend.

“I thought you were abed,” Demelza murmured. “I had to go out…Prudie came…”

“Demelza,” said Francis, and she fell silent. “He should not have called you that.”

Demelza lifted a hand and brushed tears from her eyes. “Oh, why not?” she asked, despairingly. “Everybody else does. That’s all I’ll ever be, I’ll never be good enough –,”

“You’re far too good for him, half the time,” Francis interrupted her. They reached the top of the staircase, and he let go of her elbow. He was smiling now, or trying to smile. “Far too good for all of us,” he went on. “And Ross knows that. It’s been a…a difficult time for us all. Have faith in him, Demelza.”

Demelza shook her head and thought about the child growing in her womb. “You’re kind to say so,” she said, feeling too hopeless to have faith, “but –,”

“But nothing,” said Francis, cutting across her again. “My dear cousin, the only time Ross was ever violent towards me was when I…when I insulted you.” He coughed, and looked away from her. The memory clearly shamed him. Demelza knew when that must have been – it must have been that night Ross had gone to Trenwith to see what had happened with Verity. “Whatever his faults, whatever doubts he may entertain now,” Francis said after a moment, “you must try to remember how much he cares for you.”

Demelza wiped another tear from her cheek. “Thank you, Francis,” she murmured. “It is…it do mean a great deal to me, that you and Ross have made up.” She heard a noise from downstairs, and Francis heard it too. They looked at each other for a moment, and something in his eyes made Demelza realise that she was not alone in her fear. Francis felt it too, that nagging worry that he was not enough, the concern over the ‘what if’ – the very thing that Ross and Elizabeth had discussed, alone in the study together. What if.

And then Francis smiled, and seemed back to the way he had been earlier in the evening. “Goodnight, Demelza,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight,” she said, and they parted, he to his room and she to hers. Francis’s words heartened her a little, but only a little. She had seen how Ross had looked at Elizabeth, and she had heard what he had called her, and she knew that Ross did not want another child. Neither of them, it seemed, were wanted.


End file.
